


Color Coded Dreams

by argylemikewheeler



Series: Prose Pieces [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: But still proud so here we are, M/M, Prose Poem, Unrequited Love, really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 22:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20397469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argylemikewheeler/pseuds/argylemikewheeler
Summary: Will loves Mike and Mike loves Will, but all they have to articulate it are amateur prose and one color.





	1. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, Will loves Mike and dabbles with prose poetry

“_describe the color red without using the word red”_

Will had the prompt in English class, and he barely remembered what he scribbled down, but it followed him out the door and all the way home. It wanted to sit with him at his desk, pen in hand and scraps of paper strewn about.

_the color of the blood, the same that pulses heavy in my ears when i hear your name cradled by any other set of lips. the same that rushes to my cheeks when i’m granted the permission of looking at you without any filter, any fear of being seen._

_the color of heat, furious and unstoppable. of hearing disgust shown to the spark i feel in my chest when you are around me. the color of the fire that catches on the edges of my frayed nerves and engulfs me, like a swallow of smoke. i can’t see anything but i can still feel you there, even if it’s a dream._

_the color of watching you love her instead._

_the color of calling your name again, just after you’ve left earshot. when i feel like i’ve lost my chance-- if only for the evening. the color of watching you go._

_the color of “crazy together”. and of knowing it was a lie, even if you didn’t._

_red is the color of adulthood, apparently. when four years before it becomes official, accepting that i’m to be put way, way in the distance, waiting until i can show myself and rejoin my life. childhood games are still outside, playing in the dirt, but now i use the silence to bury secrets. it’s the color of “don’t go digging”._

_the color of bruises. of bruises. bruises-- plenty of them. they never start that way, but reach for the surface and for other eyes with splotchy crimson claws. then they ripen and fade, like a piece of fruit losing its sweetness._

_i wonder if i’ll ever stay red. i’ll stay sweet and noticeable. i’ll be something that catches your eye one of these days, before i shrink away._


	2. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, Mike loves Will and struggles to have words for it

_"describe the color blue without using the word blue”_

The idea was stupid, Mike decided. And so was he. It was only difficult because he was stupid. He couldn’t seem to think of anything. The word seemed to encompass everything so succinctly:

_blue. things just **are **blue. they feel that way too. but sometimes that doesn’t mean it’s cold or frozen. sometimes it’s blue because there isn’t anything to feel otherwise._

_the color of mornings when the blankets feel really heavy. they weren’t when i laid down, but they always get to be too much by the time breakfast is called._

_the color of feeling breakable. the color of breaking too._

_or maybe just what i see when i think about it-- about how cold it is outside if i were to step out and the front door would be shut and locked behind me. the inside of the house is not blue-- it’s... warm, but i only seem to think that when i’m on the outside._

_standing in the kitchen is blue, definitely. it’s that weird taste of blood you get in your mouth when your stomach drops, but you totally aren’t going to vomit. you just think your entire body is going to collapse inward and your hands are too unsteady to catch it. i feel it at the dining table too._

_listening is blue a lot of the time. but not always. only some voices--_

There was one voice that was never blue, never felt like that blank distance between two magnets, shifting and pushing each other aside. His voice-- _that _voice-- was like, _yellow_ or something. It made Mike smile so big, he felt it on the back of his head. But, yellow always, it seemed, faded to blue.

_blue is the color of static, but not really. not even the confusion makes sense anymore._

_the color of most days. but mostly sunday. the color of sitting still and listening, again, to words that feel like they’re directed at me. the taste of blood might be, this time, from biting at my nails so much._

_god probably sees me in blue._

_i wonder a lot why he doesn’t like me. i’ve never said anything-- about the blue and definitely not about the yellow-- but i know He sees it inside me. and i worry everyone else does too. nancy does, i think. mom is covering her eyes and dad started a staring contest, waiting for me to fuck up._

_hard to not fuck up when you are one, so i’m learning._

_i was born blue, i think. but i don’t know why that doesn’t mean i can’t try and be yellow with you. i want to be yellow._

_i’ve always loved yellow._

_i’ve always loved you, yellow._

**Author's Note:**

> [The Rebloggable Post!](https://argylemikewheeler.tumblr.com/post/187272321810/basically-will-loves-mike-and-dabbles-with)


End file.
